A Taste Like Sunshine
by Lara-Van
Summary: How Volume 6 would have opened, if I was working in the writer's room. Alternate scene for Pemma lovers!


**A Note From Lara-** Yeah, my Pemma fangirling is probably an unhealthy obsession... but everybody has to have one of those, right? Anyway, if I were a Heroes writer, this is how Volume 6 would have opened. **This is probably a oneshot, BUT if I get enough response, I might write a few more chapters.**

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A Taste Like Sunshine

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Peter had heard the music stop some minutes before, and assumed that Sylar had succeeded. But he couldn't focus on that immediately- holding Samuel off long enough to give the others time to escape commanded his full attention. But as he strove with the lunatic opposite him for control of the seizing ground beneath their feet, visions of Emma blended with Nathan's face in his mind, both of them lending him strength to defeat the villain.

He felt his strength drain away very suddenly and realized that the other Specials had disappeared. Perhaps Hiro had teleported them out? He still maintained enough strength to cause the pebbles around him to twitch, but neither he nor Samuel had enough strength to continue their battle on the same scale. The other man threw a punch at him, but Peter easily deflected the blow. Thinking of Emma, of the pain and fear she had undoubtedly gone through at the Carnival leader's hands, Peter slammed his own fist across Samuel's face. The feeling of Samuel's jaw cracking slightly under his knuckles was extremely satisfying.

As he hurled Samuel out of the tent and onto the makeshift platform stage, watching him crawl about and begin screaming for his former companions, Peter worked to repress the little flicker of satisfaction. The man was pathetic and obviously psychotic, but that didn't mean he needed to gloat. It was hard, though. Samuel had crossed a line. Several, actually.

"You know, I gotta say, I never really liked carnivals," Noah said dryly.

"Yup," Peter agreed, watching as Samuel slumped backwards, staring blankly at the sky. For a moment, Peter thought the man might have had a stroke, but as a pair of black SUVs pulled up and a pair of suited agents (for what else could they be, whether of a new Company or the FBI?) hurried over to him, the terrakine thrashed away from them, yelling incoherently.

Noah spied a pretty woman with long blonde hair approaching them and his face involuntarily twitched upward in a smile. Then he glanced at Peter. "I can handle things here," he assured him. "Go find your girl."

Peter was about to object to the terminology; Emma wasn't "his girl." But two things happened simultaneously that prevented him from voicing his objections. Firstly, Noah walked away to greet the unknown blonde. Secondly, Peter realized _he wanted her to be_.

It was startling, if not entirely unexpected. From the very first time he'd spoken to her, he'd found Emma attractive and fascinating. But he hadn't wanted to see her that way. It would derail the carefully thought-out plan he had set for himself after Caitlin was lost: he would never become romantically involved with another woman, because it always ended in tragedy. But this time, the tragedy had come and gone, and Emma was safe (he hoped).

And that was that. He'd been developing feelings for her for awhile, and it was too late to deny it or change it. Without wasting another second, Peter took off, striding aimlessly through the Carnival in search of her.

He found her surprisingly quickly. He turned a corner, and there she was across a long expanse of bare ground, staring at him. She froze as their eyes met, and for a second he thought she might still be angry because of her cello. But relief and happiness crossed her face clearly as she looked at him, and he understood that he was forgiven.

Peter's feet moved almost without his consent. Before he could think it through, he was practically sprinting towards her and she was also hurrying to meet him. They stopped just inches apart and Peter was about to hug her when he changed his mind.

Instead, he cupped her face between his hands and kissed her. He had half-expected her to pull away, as she so often had in the past when he'd tried to get her to open up to him. Her reaction, therefore, took him completely by surprise. She ran her hands up his chest and across his shoulders, pulling him closer, and her lips plied his gently. His hands slipped down to her waist, trying to pull her even closer, molding her against him.

When air became a problem, they stepped back almost simultaneously, hands falling away from each other as if burned. Emma looked slightly abashed, and her cheeks were flaming, but she was smiling. Peter was grinning as well, but when his eyes fell upon her bleeding fingers, he felt his smile slip away.

Catching her hand in his, he studied it for a moment before glancing up again to meet her eyes. "Are you alright? They didn't hurt you--?"

She shook her head. "Just this." She indicated her injured hand. "There was a man- Doyle. He made me play. Your friend took care of him."

Briefly, worry about what Sylar had gotten up to consumed him. Then he looked at Emma again, and the smile returned. Right now, he could care less what Sylar was up to. He brushed a lock of gold hair out of her eyes, and was delighted to see her shiver slightly as his fingers grazed her skin.

"I guess we should try to find a first aid kit for your fingers," he said regretfully.

She nodded. At that moment, however, a chorus of shouts behind them made Peter turn around and he saw Claire falling through the air to land heavily on the ground. In front of live news cameras. Shit. "Claire!" he gasped. Then he looked back at Emma. "My niece just jumped off the Ferris Wheel."

Emma peered at the crowd a short distance away and grimaced at the sight of the blonde pulling her splintered arm back into place. "Go," she said. "You need to deal with this."

He hesitated, looking at her uncertainly. She smiled. "We'll talk later," she assured him.

He walked away, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt as if everything was right in his world. The rest of the world was about to have a major revelation dumped upon them, but for Peter Petrelli, things were wonderful.


End file.
